Let Me Tell You Something
by lightning bird
Summary: Someday an experiment would go right from beginning to end. Today, unfortunately, was not that day.
1. Recreational Feline Drugs

**Let Me Tell You Something**

by lightning bird

**Chapter One: Recreational Feline Drugs**

"Here." Dexter set the Petri dish on the island in the kitchen before leaning over and picking up the Ragdoll cat that owned him body, mind, and soul. He set the cat in front of the dish and asked, "How's this one, Einstein?"

The blue-eyed feline shedding machine leaned over and sniffed at the plate before looking away, unimpressed. With a little huff, Dexter removed the Petri dish and put the next sample before his pet.

"Try that," he ordered, watching and waiting.

Einstein purred as he smelled the contents of the dish, but after a moment he lost interest and started licking his paw and dragging it over his face in an impromptu bath geared toward showing his disdain for his human's offering. Dexter made a face, whisking the sample away before pulling out his last selection for Einstein's consideration. Even before he could set the glass plate in front of the cat, Einstein had perked up and was paying strict attention, batting at Dexter's hand with his paws in an attempt to get to the dried greens being set out for him.

Dexter snatched his fingers away as Einstein pounced on the plate. He stuffed his nose into the pile of flakes, snuffling and sniffing and blowing the bits across the counter top. A moment later he flopped onto the mess he'd made, rolling around in feline ecstasy and coating his long hair in the stuff. Dexter watched with amusement, enjoying the show as his pet got smashed on catnip.

He stepped away reluctantly when the doorbell rang, and he hurried to the entrance of the family suite in DexLabs headquarters. A quick glance at the monitor showed Ben Tennyson waiting patiently in the hall, and Dexter unlocked the door and snatched it open.

"Ben!"

"Hi, Dex," was the quick, happy greeting. "What's up?"

Dexter smiled to see him. It was Saturday and it was one of those rare occasions when he actually had a day off. His father and sisters were shopping and Dexter had the house to himself. "This is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you here?"

"A standing invitation and temporary lack of transportation. I just got done with Security. Someone made off with my hoverboard. _Again_."

"Again? Ben, that's the third time. Don't you lock it up?"

"Of course I do. Fangirls are really resourceful when they want souvenirs, kiddo. If you'd get out more you'd know what I mean."

"I'll take your word for it."

"You're lucky that everyone knows you've got bodyguards. Fangirls _attack._ You'd never make through the cafeteria line with all your clothes intact."

Dexter made a face. Such imaginings were the stuff of nightmares for him since he hated crowds, being touched, and the cafeteria's menu. "That's a disturbing image." He brightened, glad for any excuse to spend time with his best friend. He hadn't seen Ben in weeks. "Come in. Something to drink?"

"Sure. Got any sweet tea?" asked Ben, following him into the kitchen.

Einstein was still enjoying life and his sample of catnip. Some of the dried herb had been eaten, some had been snorted, some had been rolled upon, and the counter top was a complete mess. Ben laughed to see the cat in a state of near-drunkenness and covered with a veneer of dried leaves.

"What's up with your mouse hound?"

Dexter paused, a pitcher of tea in hand as he closed the refrigerator. He looked at his friend in delight, thoroughly impressed. "A well-said kenning, sir."

Ben blinked, having no idea of what the Boy Genius was going on about (not an uncommon state for most people, Ben Tennyson included), and just went with it, too versed in all things Dexter to bother asking for an explanation. "I try. What is this stuff?"

"_Nepeta cataria_," Dexter replied, pouring them some tea. He caught Ben's blank expression and quickly added, "Catnip. I was isolating the terpenoid_ nepetalactone _in it and concentrating it so that –"

"So that Einstein gets more stop, drop, and roll per whiff?" asked Ben, reaching across the counter and the feline for his drink as he avoided the cat's random and rather feeble swats. "So this is like, super catnip?"

Dexter shrugged. "Basically."

"Your cat's a cheap date, Dex." As he spoke Ben lifted the half-full Petri dish out of batting range and held it up to his nose for a sniff. "Mmm. Smells like mint."

"It is. It's a variety of mint. Sometimes it's called . . . cat mint?" he finished uncertainly when Ben suddenly stiffened. His green eyes grew wide and then narrowed sharply as he stared at the dried leaves in the Petri dish. Dexter watched his friend with growing alarm as Ben sniffed the catnip hard enough to get some of it up his nose. He waited, expecting a sneeze, but to his astonishment Ben picked some of it up and put it on his tongue. It certainly wasn't harmful stuff and rather good for upset stomachs, but this behavior was rather . . . atypical. "Uh . . . Ben?"

"Got any more?" demanded Ben. "I want more."

Dexter watched speechlessly as the Wielder of the Omnitrix licked the plate clean before Einstein could protest. For a moment he could not answer, and finally he managed to stop gaping and say, "Um . . . yeeee-ah."

"Where?"

There was a slightly crazed look about his friend and he was wavering a bit as if he was dizzy. Dexter had never heard of catnip affecting humans, but then Ben was only mostly human and there were occasions when he was downright odd, at least by Dexter's standards. He wondered if this was a prelude to some new, bizarre smoothy flavor that only Ben Tennyson could love.

"Um . . . Do you think that's wise?"

"Yes. You have more, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"More!"

"Hold on," said Dexter uneasily. He edged toward the case he'd carried up from his lab. On the opposite side of the island, Ben mirrored his motions, watching his every move as if ready to pounce. Feeling as if he was being stalked, Dexter lifted the plastic box he'd used to store the newly dried samples of catnip. "This is-"

Ben grabbed the box out of his hands and yanked it open before Dexter could raise a protest.

"Lame," said Ben, opening the lid of the first plastic container and stuffing his nose into the catnip. He tossed it aside, dumping dried catnip across the kitchen floor. Dexter let out a squeak, mesmerized by the effects of gravity on plant material as he watched a mess being born.

"Eh," was the assessment of the next container. It was likewise tossed aside, where it bounced off one of the stools and rolled into the dining room, spewing catnip all the way.

Dexter yelped, "Ben! What's wrong with you?"

He pulled the last container out of the case. "Bingo!"

"Ben!"

Grinning in triumph, the brunet yanked the lid off the third container and stuffed his face into the flakes of catnip. Dexter lunged to get it away from him, but Ben lifted his head and _growled. _Dexter snatched his hand away in shock. Instead of quieting down, Ben's growl deepened and became louder and there was a flash of green energy from the Omnitrix. Suddenly in place of Benjamin Kirby Tennyson there stood an eight-foot, humanoid tiger with a sharply angular head and, apparently, something to shout about.

_"Rath!"_

His deep voice filled the kitchen and he backed up the claim by letting out a terrific roar. Dexter stumbled back against the refrigerator and stared, unable to find any words to describe the situation or his unbounding terror. Einstein, the traitorous whore, climbed onto his feet and purred, arching his back as he rubbed up against his fellow feline, completely undismayed by this change in one of his humans.

"Let me tell something, Dexter Boy Genius!" bellowed the tiger, ignoring Einstein as the much smaller cat rolled over for a belly rub. "Rath has got something to tell you, so you'd better listen up because I'm not going to say this again unless I have to."

There was no chance of Dexter closing his mouth, blinking, or making a sound.

"WHAT?" demanded Rath, having no idea of why this boy was gaping at him. "What? I got something on my face? Cat got your tongue? Well, I got your cat!" He rubbed his face with his free hand, surprised to come back with a handful of catnip. He promptly scooped up the Ragdoll that was busy making a complete fool of himself on the counter and held the limp form up over his head. "See! What are you gonna do about it?"

Einstein purred and nuzzled Rath's wrist. Dexter's mouth opened wider still as he stared up at his pet. Finally he managed to ask, "What can I do about it?"

"I dunno! You're supposed to be the smart one, right?"

Dexter couldn't formulate any more answer than "Uhhh," but fortunately Rath raged on without taking a breath.

"So listen up, Dexter Boy Genius! Rath's gotta tell you that's a really stupid last name you've got. What kind of last name is Boy Genius, Boy Genius?"

"That's not-"

A growl cut him off. Dexter instantly altered course.

"Alright, I agree. It would be a stupid last name if . . . if it was my last name." He swallowed and then carefully asked, "Are you . . . one of Ben's aliens?"

"What? What do you think?" barked the tiger, still holding Dexter's cat close to the ceiling. "You see any other aliens running around here? Where else would Rath come from?"

"Ben didn't activate the Omnitrix."

"So?"

"So . . . do _you _have a last name?"

"What? Rath is Rath. Hey, got any more of this stuff?" He poured most of the container of catnip into his mouth, chewing and swallowing the whole dry mess and then making a great show of licking the flakes off his sharp teeth. Dexter had visions of a certain cereal mascot on steroids and in need of anger management classes. He was never eating Frosted Flakes again.

"Uh, no," he said, rather glad that most of the super catnip he had with him was gone and suspicious that he knew what had caused this change in his friend's appearance and attitude. If Einstein was an indicator, Ben - or Rath - was smashed.

"Oh, well, too bad. I'll just finish this and - whoa!"

He tipped his head back to pour the last of the catnip into his maw and lost his balance. Still holding Einstein high, Rath pitched over backwards, landing on his tailless behind.

"Cool. It's cool. Rath meant to do that. That was totally on purpose."

"Of course. May I have my cat back, please, Mr. Israth?"

Rath looked up at the cat dangling from his hand. Einstein interrupted his non-stop purring and meowed a greeting. "Guess so. what is that stuff, anyway?"

"Catnip." Dexter shooed his pet off to safety and to sober up a bit before returning to find Rath drinking sweet tea right out of the pitcher, sloshing it down his front. The redhead stood before the alien, not exactly certain as to what he should do. Call security? His father? The Plumbers? Try to reason with him? As much as he could be reasoned with, of course.

"Mr. Israth, can you possibly turn back to Ben?"

"Why?"

He glanced at the tea pooling on the floor and mingling with the spilled catnip and bright orange and black hairs. What a mess. The cleaning robots were going to overheat. Rath was waiting for an answer, and Dexter realized that telling him he preferred his best friend in his normal, chipper state versus this loud, combative, belligerent, shedding, drunk-on-catnip state would be a full-scale disaster.

"Well . . . he was . . . um . . . going to help me in my laboratory."

"Your what?"

"My laboratory."

"La-what?"

He gave up. "My . . . workspace."

"What, and Rath can't help? Let me tell you something, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name! Rath can help! You can pay me in catnip."

"Uh-"

"Come on!"

Before Dexter could do more than let out yelp, Rath picked him by the belt of his lab coat and headed for the door, stepping in spilled tea and catnip and trailing both through the living room. He hung limp in the tiger's hold, suddenly sympathetic to Einstein and his tolerance of being carried around like a towel. The thought of this creature in his laboratory was enough to make him panic. Ben had been destructive enough on his own. Rath actually intended to help him.

"Please put me down, Mr. Israth."

"Naa. We'll get there faster if I carry you."

"There's no rush."

"Except Rath wants more catnip."

"Yes, but-"

_"Sir, this is Morton. We found Commander Tennyson's hoverboard. I told him we'd call."_

A comm cube appeared in the air before Dexter, mostly upside down to match his field of vision since he was being dangled by his belt. He pushed his glasses back into place as Rath headed for the door.

"Good. I think. Maybe," he added uncertainly, straining a bit to speak clearly.

The holo-image of the blond security officer frowned. _"Uh, excuse me, sir, but is your hair supposed to be sticking up like that?"_

"Considering I'm being carried almost upside down, yes, this would be the expected and proper configuration of hair given the effects of gravity and barring the use of hair products to keep it in place, which I can't use in the laboratory, of course."

_"Of course."_ Chip Morton stared. He was well enough versed in Dexspeak to pick through the superfluous information and get to the real issue. _"Who's carrying you, sir?"_

Dexter was pleased to hear the anxious concern in the man's voice. After all, his safety and security was Morton's primary job. "That would be Commander Tennyson in . . . excuse me, Mr. Israth, but what are you? What is your species?"

"Rath is an Appoplexian! I thought you were smart, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name!"

"You heard the tiger," said Dexter. "Ben is an Appoplexian due to an overdose of recreational feline drugs."

_"Huh?"_ asked Morton, so confounded that he forgot himself for a moment. _"Sir?"_

"This is Ben on catnip, Mr. Morton."

By now Rath had noticed their conversation and he looked at the comm cube with great interest. Rather than setting Dexter upright, however, he saw fit to lean over and try to look at Morton.

"Hey, why is that guy upside-down? What, he standing on his head? Well, Rath can do that, too!"

"No, no! Mr Isra - _oof!"_

He was already unsteady on his big paws. The effort to see Chip threw the Appoplexian completely off balance and as the sergeant watched helplessly his boss and his boss' best friend in Tony the Tiger mode tumbled over and landed in an untidy heap at the front door of the Utoniums' suite.

_"Sir? Sir? I'm sending help right now! Hold on-"_

"Rath is already helping!" hissed the irate tiger, flat on his back and smushing Dexter.

"Why am I always on the bottom of these piles?" mumbled Dexter, his voice muffled.

"Dunno," said Rath, not moving. "You must be good at it or something." His head dropped onto the floor with a thud and instantly he was snoring.

With a groan the redhead crawled partially out from beneath Rath's legs. Someday an experiment would go right from beginning to end. Today, unfortunately, was not that day. "Or something. Sergeant, if you want to help, please - _please!_- contact the Plumbers and ask them what on earth can be done to get Ben back to himself."

_"Right away, sir, but -"_

"I'll handle this. I hope," he added under his breath. "In the meantime, Sergeant, where is the item in question?"

_"Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia."_


	2. Mirror, Mirror

**Chapter Two: Mirror, Mirror**

_"What?" _squawked Dexter.

_"I've got Sector C KND out looking for it, sir."_

A groan escaped Dexter. So much for his day off. He'd known from the start he'd regret giving the hooligans and fangirls in Earth's Combined Forces the power of flight and easy, world-wide transportation systems. At least there was a jump platform in Mongolia. The board and the perpetrators would be easy enough to track down and retrieve (and prosecute if the hoverboard wasn't back here in one piece by the time Ben sobered up). He stole a glance at the tiger sprawled halfway atop him. This was his best friend. He had to keep him from harm or making a complete (or more complete) ass out of himself.

"See to getting it back immediately, Sergeant. If not, remote detonation is authorized. I'm tired of people treating Ben like a souvenir shop simply because he's famous. In the meantime, please call the Plumbers and get back to me. Any information they have will be of help. I'll try to keep Ben occupied until then."

_"I'll have every available officer on standby," _Chip replied in a voice Dexter knew not to debate.

For a few minutes he kept still as Rath snored, trying to formulate a plan. He didn't have enough information to come up with anything useful. He would have to wait for Chip to call him back. Dexter strained and twisted and finally managed to climb out from beneath the Appoplexian. The motion woke Rath from his catnap and he sat up, holding his head and looking about.

"What'd you go and do that for?"

"Wake you up?"

"Yeah, that."

"You were asleep on me." He sat next to the overgrown tiger, folding his feet beneath him as he studied his friend. Dexter wondered if Ben aware of what he was saying and doing and if this state of combativeness was normal for an Appolplexian or if this was the catnip speaking. Rath sat next to him, unable to cross his legs as neatly as the human and almost tumbling over backwards twice. The attention and silence seemed to unnerve him a bit. For want of something better to do, Rath growled at him, bearing his teeth in an unconvincing manner. It was clear that despite his constant aggressiveness and relative state of drunkenness he still recognized Dexter as a friend and ally.

"You have catnip on your fangs," advised Dexter.

"Rath hates it when that happens!" He made a great show of licking his teeth with his tongue and finally displayed his chompers in something akin to a feline smile. "Better?"

"Still there. There's a bathroom right there." He pointed across the wide entrance to one of six such rooms in the suite (living with three teenage sisters, Dexter knew his only chance of getting into the bathroom in the morning was to have twice as many bathrooms as girls, and even then the odds were against him).

Rath frowned, confused, and then seemed to figure out that Dexter expected him to do something in that direction. He hopped to his feet, fell flat on his can, hopped up again as if nothing had happened, and went to the room. Dexter watched him go, suddenly wondering if this was such a good idea. A minute passed, then another, and then a roar filled the apartment and it sounded as if a battle was going on in the bathroom.

"Rath's telling you to cut out that funny stuff, funny guy! Yeah, Rath's talking to _you!_"

The house was empty but for them. Who could he be yelling at? Scrambling to his feet, Dexter dashed over and yanked open the door. Rath was growling into the large mirror over the sink, fogging it up with each breath and looking supremely combative. As Dexter watched, the Appoplexian hunched his shoulders and bared his teeth, his orange hair standing up as he let out another terrific and furious roar. He hopped to the side in a crabbing sort of walk that had Einstein used when he was a kitten and had wanted to be intimidating, and when that didn't work he hopped back, hissing and spitting.

"Stop doing everything Rath does!" he ordered, snatching up the blow dryer that Blossom had left out an aiming it at his reflection. He bounced around a bit more, snarling. "Pull a gun on Rath, will ya? Take that, ya ugly cuss!"

He blew hot air at the mirror and then growled in genuine anger, looking down the barrel and blowing himself in the face. "Let me tell you something, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name! That's a for crap laser gun you've got there!"

"Yeee-ah, I need to fix that one," Dexter replied. Had Rath ever seen a mirror before? Was this the catnip or was he really this stupid?

Rath thrust the blow dryer into Dexter hands. "Rath will help you fix it after I teach some manners to that ugly guy that keeps doing everything Rath does-"

He was this stupid.

Dexter dropped the blow dryer and seized his hand before he could punch the mirror. Distracted, Rath lifted his arm with Dexter dangling on his wrist like a bracelet so that they could see eye-to-eye, as it were.

"You can't punch that, Mr. Israth. It's a portal to another dimension where everything is the opposite of here. It shows up now and then. You could get sucked in and no one would know what you're saying since they speak backwards from us."

Rath's small and drunken brain processed this information. Somehow, it made sense. "That's pretty dumb! Hey!" He pointed at himself, unconscious of the boy clinging to his arm. "You're dumb _and _ugly! Rath's got your number, dumb and ugly guy!"

Dexter sighed. It wasn't even noon and it was already a long day.


	3. Food and Drug Administration

**Chapter Three: Food and Drug Administration**

_"Appoplexian?" _

"Giant, angry tiger alien?" countered Dexter, not exactly angling for wit or manners. He cringed as he heard something break somewhere off in the depths of his laboratory.

_"Appoplexian,"_ confirmed General Shaan, looking at him with sympathy. _"I haven't seen one of them since Rayge divorced me and my brother-in-law came to yell at me for putting up with her for so long."_

Dexter stared at the only Plumber he trusted. "You were _married_ one of them?" he asked before he could stop himself. It was a very personal question, but Shaan had raised the topic himself.

_"Actually, Rayge married me. I had no clue. They can do that on Appoplexia. Keep the doors locked if you ever visit." _Shaan smiled, amused at the boy's horror._ "So what happened? Is the Omnitrix broken again?"_

The young scientist made a face at the foot-high hologram of the Plumber being projected by the comm unit, knowing that Shaan saw a similar image of him where he sat at a desk at the Lakehurst Naval Air Station in New Jersey. Dexter was aware that his anger was completely unreasonable and unfair, but to see the General dressed for a round of golf was galling.

"It's not broken. Ben came by to visit me as I was letting my cat sample some new varieties of catnip I've been developing for-"

_"Catnip?"_ barked the Plumber, his dark eyes wide. _"You gave an Appoplexian _catnip? _Are you nuts?"_

"I didn't give it to him, he took it. Ben smelled the stuff I grew for Einstein and turned into a giant furry and shed all over the house."

_"Dexter, catnip – or whatever it is in that stuff that makes cats go nuts - is the Appoplexian equivalent of speed. It's a banned substance on Appoplexia and drug runners in that sector are constantly being intercepted with cargos of it. How much did he consume?"_

Dexter shifted, suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable. "Um . . . almost eight ounces."

_"Fresh?"_

"Dried."

The general stared at him, open-mouthed. Dexter felt panic sweep down upon him.

_"WHAT?"_ he squeaked. "I've never seen this alien before! How could I know? What was I supposed to do? It was a complete nightmare getting him down here! He was arguing with the elevator!"

As he spoke an enraged roar echoed through the laboratory followed by a challenge shouted at the stairs and then cursing and a loud crash.

_"What is he doing?" _demanded Shaan, concerned. He instinctively tried to see beyond Dexter.

"I'm keeping him busy. He's moving a Megabot to the other side of the lab for me."

_"Something about the catnip must have activated the Omnitrix. Stuff like that's happened before. Dexter, your best friend is strung out on feline speed. Whatever you do, don't let him get any more of that stuff and for gods' sake, be careful! Appoplexians are dense and argumentative at the best of times. Is Security down there with you?"_

"No, but Computress is on alert. She's ready to lock him in a force field if he becomes violent."

_"He hasn't?" _Shaan's surprise was genuine.

"No. Not with me. Rath's dumber than Plank and he threatened his reflection in a mirror, but he hasn't aimed any aggression at me."

_"Well, on top of everything else, Appoplexians are loyal. He knows you're his friend. Thank god,"_ he added under his breath. _"I'd still feel better if Morton or Green was with you since your father is out."_

"Sgt. Morton knows and is monitoring me, Mr. Green is off today, and Dad's promised the girls for months to take them shopping. He'll be vaporized if he tries to leave the mall now. How long should this state last?" wondered Dexter, trying not to sound too anxious.

_"Figure an hour an ounce, give or take, depending on how potent the catnip happens to be-"_

"Extremely."

_"Of course. Try doing something by halves one of these days, will you? If you can get a lot of food into him he might sleep. Overeating knocks them out."_

Dexter was speechless. A little less than three hours had already passed. Five more hours of this raging idiocy? Five more hours - at least – of Ben on a bender? Why hadn't he gone shopping with his sisters? That would have solved all problems and given him something to gripe about since he hated shopping as much as he hated banjo music. Even the Downtown Mall held more appeal than his laboratory right now, and he'd never thought the day would dawn when shopping for shoes would trump radioactive isotopes. (Not that he _could_ leave, of course, being subject to arrest by his own security force, the KND, and ECF if he so much as stepped outside the building – _his _building - thank you, Mandy). Ben was his best friend and he loved him dearly, but he was sorely regretting having opened the door earlier.

"I'll see what I can do. Do you think he'd like chili fries in this form?"

Shaan snorted. _"There's not much that's edible that Appoplexians don't like, son."_

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Food. It shouldn't be this difficult.

Since just yesterday he had been powder coating three new shock cannons for the _Terror _to replace the ones destroyed by his Fusion Double, they absolutely could not eat in the lab for fear of ingesting any stray particles left in the air. Dexter had to abandon the safe and appealing idea of simply sending to the kitchens for a feast, watching Rath gorge himself and, hopefully, going right to sleep. His private rooms down here were also out of the question since Morton could not monitor him in there. Finally Dexter decided to risk one of the corporate meeting rooms. He still had three of those that hadn't been taken over by Earth's Combined Forces and he should be able to get Rath there with minimum (for the situation) difficulty.

"Mr. Israth!" he called, following the trail of broken machinery and old parts to where Rath was industriously and repeatedly kicking a piece of the Megabot's armor plating out of sheer fury. "Mr. Israth?"

"What do you want, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name?" bellowed the tiger. "Rath is busy!"

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

He paused, gnashed his teeth at the armor, and yelled, "Rath is always hungry!"

"That's good. Let's take a break, then. What do you like to eat?"

"Food!"

Well, he'd asked. "I'll call for food to be prepared and we can go eat when you're done teaching the Megabot a lesson. Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Yeah." Rath resumed kicking. "Sounds good. This guy's almost had enough."

"Excellent. Let me know when it surrenders. I'll be right downstairs."

Dexter glanced back at Rath a final time before hurrying down the steps to his work station. It was hard to believe _that _was Ben. It seemed his IQ plummeted while in Appoplexian form, though that sheer strength and aggressiveness would undoubtedly have good application in a fight. While academically Benjamin Tennyson was no Rhodes Scholar, he possessed the ability to comprehend complex theories and concepts when they were presented in broad terms. Moreover, he was a skilled leader and had his own brand of genius when it came to tactics and thinking out of the box. Best of all, he was completely unintimidated by Dexter's intellect, wealth, and arrogance, and he had never tried to take advantage of Dexter's age and relative inexperience with life beyond the laboratory (barring video games).

He was relieved to reach Chef Daal when he called the kitchen, not his wife or his assistant or his apprentice since Dexter ranked them as abrasive, incomprehensible, and obsessive-compulsive (little realizing most people applied all three adjectives to him within minutes of meeting with him). There was no denying that they certainly knew how to cook. At the moment Dexter called, Mung Daal had been baking, because his blue skin was powdered with flour. He smiled to see his employer - whom he had never actually met in person – and twirled his moustache in anticipation of a challenge.

"Chef Daal, I want to order a private luncheon to be served in meeting room three, please."

_"The pleasure will be mine,"_ smiled the old man. _"How many people will there be?"_

He thought, wondering how much food an Appoplexian might consume versus how much Ben could consume. A lot in either case, he decided. Rath was the better part of eight feet tall and looked to be made of solid muscle, and Ben was at an age when he could eat endlessly. "There will only be two of us, but I'll still need food for about ten people. A lot of food. It's a long story," he added when the chef looked surprised. "My guest has a large appetite."

_"That's how I like 'em," _said Daal. _"Salad and desserts, too?"_

"Yes. And don't use any sort of mint in anything, please. He . . . doesn't react well to mint."

_"Allergic, eh? No fears. We're on it,"_ was the happy promise. _"When would you like to eat?"_

"As soon as possible."

_"We'll start setting up now and bring the food in half an hour. Chowder!" _he shouted to his apprentice before the comm link turned off.

Dexter sighed, dropping into a chair. How long could he get Rath to eat? He'd willingly spend the rest of the day watching the tiger scarf down every last bit of food in the entirety of DexLabs just to keep him calm and safe (relatively speaking) and out of trouble. More trouble. If only he could get him to fall asleep. He could still hear shouts echoing through the laboratory from the upper level, and he ventured up the stairs again to check on his friend. Rath had knocked the armor plating to the ground and was jumping up and down on it. Dexter sat down on the step to watch, praying Rath didn't hurt himself. It didn't seem likely, but he didn't want Ben to come out of this battle damaged when he hadn't actually been in battle.

"Had enough, Megabot?" crowed the tiger, standing atop the plate and pointing down at it. "Give up now? You want some more hurt put on ya?"

"I think it's dead," Dexter ventured after a few minutes. He looked at Rath in feigned admiration. "Well done. That piece has always been a trouble maker."

"Yeah, well, Rath took care of it for you, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name."

"Thank you for putting it in its place."

"Yeah, well, you're a shrimp and no way you could do as good a job as Rath. Beating up machines always makes Rath hungry! Let's eat!"

"We'll be going upstairs. Please don't punch the elevator again."

"No promises!"

"Of course not," Dexter said, slowly walking in the direction of the exit and leading Rath along with him. "But I'll thank you to try. Just think - the elevator leads such a dull life in comparison to you. Delaying us must be its only source of fun."

"Rath says it's a totally stupid elevator, then!"

"Dexter agrees," he sighed, weary.


	4. Whining and Dining

**Chapter Four: Whining and Dining**

"Rath really likes this stuff! What is it?"

"Ketchup."

"It goes good on this! What is this?"

"Fettuccini Alfredo."

"It's good on this! What is this?"

"That's a leg of lamb. Was a leg of lamb," he added as the cut of meat disappeared down Rath's maw in three bites. The bare bones were tossed onto the table. After this he had better make sure Rath digested all this food just in case meals carried over when the Omnitrix powered down. He'd already consumed an entire pan of roasted chicken, chugged the accompanying gravy in one shot, drank a bottle of ketchup and a container of creamy Italian dressing, spewed balsamic vinaigrette across the table, ate a large basket of bread and rolls, ate the butter curls (not with the bread), swallowed enough garlic bread to make his breath noxious, ignored the salad (for which Dexter was grateful, else he would have starved), and sprinkled chocolate chip cookies on the pan of spaghetti before slapping his face into it to suck each noodle down. The meeting room was a disaster area, and it seemed as if Rath was wearing as much food as he ate. Right now he looked particularly vicious with his jaws and teeth red with marinara as he wrestled with the spaghetti for the cookies and meatballs. Dexter sat beside him at the table, protecting the roll he'd snagged earlier (and was now an endangered species, being the last of its kind in the room) and slowly eating his salad and pasta as he watched in quiet awe as an Appoplexian downed lunch. When was the food coma supposed to kick in?

"What's this pokey thing?"

"It's a fork. No, no, no, don't eat it, Mr. Israth. It's not edible. Would you like some tea? The same stuff you had before."

He answered with a mouthful of spaghetti. "Rath rumm vrr gra."

"I'll take that as a yes."

He stepped over to the buffet and poured himself some coffee and carried the entire pitcher of iced tea back to the table for his friend. He was about to resume his seat when a comm cube appeared before him. Sgt. Morton looked supremely impatient and fed up with life.

_"Sir, I've got some information for you. Can you have Computress set up some two-way vid-screens?"_

Impatience from Morton was a bad sign, but Dexter couldn't imagine the day getting any worse or weirder. Seeing as how information was one of his favorite things, he nodded. "A moment, Sergeant. Let me give Mr. Israth his drink."

The first pitcher was swallowed in a gulp and the glass container tossed carelessly aside, so Dexter came back with more tea, lemonade, and some apple juice as well. Rath was still battling the spaghetti, insisting on eating it a single noodle at a time and making a glorious mess. Dexter had Computress set up the requested two-way screens in the air above the table.

_"Patching you in to Sector C KND tree house now, sir," _said Morton.

"Who's that?" demanded Rath, slurping down a noodle.

"Chip Morton. My head of Security. You know him. He's your friend."

"That's a dumb name," said the tiger, getting back to slurping down noodles. "Why's he named after a potato?"

"He's . . . I don't know," Dexter replied, not wanting to pursue the conversation any further for fear of what might result. It was rare that he didn't want to debate (most called it argue) a topic, but logic and reason seemed beyond Rath right now. The Appoplexian wasn't interested in an exchange, he just liked to observe the obvious and pass his opinion.

He was setting down the last pitcher of juice when the second screen blinked to life to show a small group of ECF troops with a row of heavily armed Chinese KND behind them and a fierce-looking boy in armor before them. Dexter edged behind Rath's chair, hesitant to be seen. He generally didn't fare well when exposed to his peers and he fared worse when he didn't have control of a situation, such as now. All the teens and children on the screen gasped to see a hunched-over, eight-foot tall tiger with red splashed across his mouth and bones and the remains of a meal scattered on the table.

_"Sir, this is Sector Leader Number Yee," _said Morton, ignoring the fact that his boss was hiding. The fierce boy nodded his head in a sharp motion.

"What are those things with Number Yee?" asked Dexter from behind Rath.

In a dead-pan voice Chip continued, _"ECF troopers Moondove Glowwwyrm, Raven Rose, Ruthinia Bludrayne, and Ryuusetto Marumoto Akahito Fireant. They were picked up by Sector C in Mongolia."_

Dexter frowned. "What was their intent with Commander Tennyson's hover board?"

_"I'm sure they'll be happy to explain it to you, sir."_

It was easy even for Dexter to put a name to the person. Moondove wore a flowing gray dress, fairy wings, and an elaborate headdress atop impossibly long silver hair. Raven Rose had red and black hair and wore red armor over a black robe. The armor had nothing to do with protection and everything to do with fashion. Ms. Bludrayne was trying her best to be a vampire hedgehog with spiky, electric blue hair and high top sneakers and black everything else. The only boy of the group had green hair and wore his interpretation of ninja togs with studded jack boots. Dexter had never seen so much eyeliner in his life.

_"It's Rose Raven," _corrected the iron maiden in a disgusted, impatient monotone.

_"You're in a world of trouble, missy,"_ reminded Morton. _"I suggest you clap a lid on it now."_

_"Why are we in trouble?" _whined the fairy, wringing her motion caused her spray-on glitter to scatter. Her voice was falsely high-pitched and so sweet as to cause cavities.

_"You stole Commander Tennyson's hover board?" _reminded Morton humorlessly.

Immediately their voices rose in protest. Dexter picked out a jumble of excuses including 'But he's in love with me' 'He's my best friend' 'Wanted me to have it' 'Just borrowed it' 'Engagement present' 'Gave it to me' 'Boyfriend' 'Said I could' 'No, MY boyfriend' 'I'm Mrs. Tennyson' 'Has six of 'em' 'Getting married' 'They made me.'

Poor Benjamin. Poor, poor Benjamin. With a sharp pang of sympathy, Dexter peered around the chair at his mercifully oblivious friend. "Mr. Israth, do you have any idea of who these people are?"

The Appoplexian barely looked up, uninterested. "Naa. Hey, got any more of that stuff?"

He had no idea of what particular stuff Rath wanted, but so long as he didn't ask for catnip the Boy Genius figured anything would do. Dexter shoved a bottle of ketchup at him. "Right here."

The Ben-centric protests went on and on, rising in pitch as the girls worked themselves into an emotional frenzy and the wannabe ninja fell into a self-righteous funk and refused to speak. The girls more than made up for him and his attitude, and things were coming to blows as they turned on one another, yanking wigs and accessories and each insisting that she and no other was Ben Tennyson's one true love and the hover board – which was in fact a customized gift from Dexter - was a token of Ben's devotion to her and her alone, and everyone else had stolen it. Dexter gaped, as horrified as he was fascinated. So these were Ben's fans. Did Ben know he was such a hot commodity? Did his girlfriend Julie know? If this was typical of Earth's Combined Forces, the planet was doomed.

Suddenly Rath stood up in all his marinara-covered glory. Spaghetti and meatballs and chocolate chip cookies spilled on the table, making it look as if he'd disemboweled the buffet. "SHUT UP! You make too much noise! Rath is trying to eat here and now you made me toss my cookies."

Big feet stomping, Rath went and took a large chocolate cake from off the sideboard. It was half gone by the time he reached his chair and from that point on the gateau had a life span of less than a minute. He dropped back down to lick his chops and growled at the screen. The girls, their sisterhood restored in the face of a snarling tiger, burst into tears and wails that were easily as annoying as their argument a moment ago. With a crazed yell Rath suddenly leaped at the vid-screens, brandishing the fork, but since they were projections he sailed gracefully through the images. All the children screamed in alarm at the unexpected close-up, quickly recovering when they realized their mistake and the Appoplexian landed with a crash under the nearly-depleted buffet table. Table, tiger, and food spilled to the ground. Dexter sighed, wishing to heaven Ben would sober up _now._

"Rath wanted to do that!" he yelled.

"I know. Sergeant, where is Ben's hover board?"

_"According to Number Yee, Number Woo is already en route to return it via jump gate, sir. He's already arrived in Downtown and Dearborn's picked him up."_

"I have a hover board?" asked Rath from across the room and under the table.

"No," snapped Dexter, trying to nip that notion in the bud. "Ben does. Sergeant, please arrange for the return of Ben's property, extend my thanks to Sector C, and see about making these miscreants regret their conduct and lose all desire to treat Commander Tennyson and his possessions with such disrespect in the future."

_"Already on it, sir. Do you want to press charges?" _asked Morton as the four ECF cosplayers exchanged glances, trying to follow the conversation and figure out if they were being insulted and how and why they were in so much trouble just for showing their devotion.

"Ben will have to decide that," Dexter replied, hoping to heaven his friend would get mean enough to do it. Ben was a phenomenal leader and soldier, but in his private life he was as mild and easy going as could be. So long as it was returned, he would more than likely shrug off the issue of his hover board being shanghaied. Again. Sometimes Dexter wanted to rail at him for being so laid back, but he didn't since Ben was simply being himself and a mean Ben was inconceivable. Surly and cranky and occasionally dense Ben were facts of life, but mean? Never. Frankly he'd give just about anything to have that version of his best friend back right now regardless of his mood. Rath had eaten enough for ten people and he showed no signs of wanting a nap. How much would it take?

"So what color is my hover board?" demanded Rath. He stood on the table and wavered unsteadily, trying to touch the projected screens and filling their views with his nose and marinara-covered maw.

Dexter ignored the question, hoping it would go away. Luck was not with him this Saturday. The four thieving teenagers stared at Rath with wide, unblinking eyes and slack mouths as they slowly figured out that this sauce-doused idiot was their hero/fiancée/true love/imagined husband/victim/bestest bud/whatever.

"Where is it?" asked Rath, looking around and peering behind the projected screens.

"It's being returned," reminded Dexter.

"What the heck are those things?" wondered Rath, pointing at the screen. "Action figures?"

The vampire hedgehog's voice was faint as she recognized the logo on the overgrown tiger's chest. _"That's . . . is that . . .?"_

Glowwwyrm pointed a shaky finger._ "That's-"_

_"Ben!"_ screamed Fireant, sounding suspiciously distraught and overwrought and close to tears. He clapped both hands to his head. _"My god, Ben, what happened, babe? Is that really you? Don't worry, I still lov-"_

He broke off, suddenly conscious of what he'd said and before whom. All eyes focused on him for a long and highly awkward moment. Dexter silently swore he would _not _have Computress do a voice analysis of their loud protest from a few minutes ago. Ever. He feared he might be looking at Mrs. Tennyson. Morton cleared his throat. Rath frowned. Fireant shuffled uncomfortably. The girls were giving their fellow captive murderous looks, so the ersatz ninja tried to play it cool and finished off his passionate cry with a thoroughly unconvincing, _"Dude."_

Dexter resisted the urge to slap a hand to his forehead, verbally explode at Fireant, or unleash Rath. Satisfying though they may be, ultimately any of the three courses of action would be useless, so he tried to stick to the issue at hand.

"Sergeant, just return the hover board," he ordered. "Get these idiots out of my sight and keep them there."

_"Right away, sir."_

He was as good as his word. There was a knock on the door. His neurotic tendencies kicking in, Dexter darted behind Rath and looked at Morton.

_"Dearborn, sir, with Number Woo. Returning the board as ordered."_

"Oh. Well, ask them to set it inside the door."

He held well back behind his friend as the door opened and Sgt. Dearborn and a chubby Chinese boy entered. Sector C KND Operative Number Woo bowed as he presented the board.

"Awright!" exclaimed Rath, startling the poor boy. "Rath's got a hover board!"

He misjudged his jump across the table and tripped more than leaped, sliding across the slick, crumb-coated surface to spill gracelessly to the floor at Woo's feet.

"Hey, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name, let's get smoothies!"

"No," groaned Dexter, abandoning his hiding spot. "No, no, please, Mr. Israth-"

"Rath says thanks, Number Woo!" bellowed the Appoplexian right in the boy's face. He grabbed the board out of Woo's hold and, holding it over his head like a surf board, dashed out into the hall with a happy roar. "Rath's got a hover board!"

The change was remarkable. Rath had gone from combative to playful. Was it the sugar in the cake doing this?

"This can't be happening," whined Dexter, giving chase to his best friend.

"_Dearborn, Woo, after him!"_ ordered Morton desperately as his billionaire boss ran headlong after an alien powerhouse strung out on cat cannabis. He didn't know or care if Woo spoke word one of English. All he knew was that the smartest person on the planet was being phenomenally stupid. DexLabs Security and KND alike scrambled after them.

"Ben, no!" cried Dexter as Rath hopped onto the activated board. It dipped low under his weight before recovering and streaking right at Dexter.

"Come on, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name!" exclaimed Rath, scooping him up where he stood. "Rath wants a smoothy!"

Dexter let out a squeak and held on for dear life as the Appoplexian, tapping into Ben's inherent skill with the board, sent them zooming down the hall toward the main entrance of the corporate headquarters.

_"Seal the entrance!"_ shouted Chip. _"Stop th- crap! Computress, track them! Dearborn, you and Woo get back here now!"_

A growl escaped the head of security as boy, tiger, and board escaped the building. He glared at the teenagers still on screen. Realizing the extent of the trouble they'd caused, the four soldiers cowered even though they were on the far side of the world. Morton's glare was just that good.

_"Um . . . hi?"_ tried Rose Raven or Raven Rose, whatever she was calling herself at that particular moment.

Another growl, and then Morton looked to someone off screen. _"114 have our four rocket surgeons brought back here immediately under guard. Pender!"_ He called to one of the security officers as he fixed the prisoners with a steely gaze. _"Get me Mr. Green."_


	5. Operation Trousers Ablaze

**Chapter Five: Operation Trousers Ablaze**

"Here." Dexter slid the frosty beverage toward Rath. "How's this one?"

The Appoplexian eyed the smoothie like a connoisseur looking at a glass of fine wine. "Let me tell you something, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name! That's pretty small!"

"It's a _sample_, Mr. Israth. Just like the other twenty-eight samples I've already made for you. It's supposed to be this small. Try that. If you don't like it, we'll keep going until we find your . . . perfect smoothie happy place," he finished in quiet growl.

Rath took a sip through the straw, emptying half the cup in one shot. Dexter waited expectantly for his expert opinion on his ability to make a smoothie. He'd given up hope on the promised food coma and was resigned to entertaining his high and hungry friend until the catnip wore off. A mere four hours to go.

"Needs more onion."

Dexter sighed. Last time he wanted more mushroom. Before that it was raspberry. And before that, wasabi. "There is no onion flavoring available."

"Oh. Got anything with gravy? How about ketchup?"

As if smoothies weren't enough on their own._ "No."_

He was still hopelessly windblown from the wild ride on the hover board. Despite Dexter's protests, arguments, and complaints, Rath had insisted on an aerial tour of Downtown in his search for a smoothie. The only thing he could do was cling to the huge arm holding him and pray the clumsiness Rath had displayed thus far was a result of low blood sugar brought on by hunger and not a natural tendency. He did not want to go tumbling down into traffic from on high. They were flying quite high, probably the maximum advisable height for this model of hover board (and it was one of DexLabs' top-of-the-line, military-issue boards) and though Dexter had no fear of heights, he was making an exception to that rule this sunny Saturday afternoon. He scanned the sky for his sisters (Fusion versions or otherwise) even though he knew they would not leave the Downtown Mall until the Professor dragged them out by their hair.

The only saving grace was that they were well away from Mandark Industries. Being shot down would have capped off the day.

Rath had not stopped talking (well, yelling, actually) the whole flight. Dexter's throat was sore, so he figured he probably screamed (both for the sake of conversation and to express his terror) the whole time Rath yelled. It was the only way to be heard above the rushing wind, plus he'd been scared silly. He had no idea how much Rath weighed, but it had to be a lot since he was essentially solid muscle (though Dexter rather thought his skull must be solid bone). He did know how much weight Ben's hover board was capable of supporting, however and he estimated the strung-out tiger had consumed an additional twenty pounds at least of food and drink. Factoring in his own unimpressive weight, the board had to be overloaded.

He was right. Of all the things he had to be right about today, why did it have to be the load-bearing capacity of a custom board? At least Rath had been aiming to land at Mr. Smoothy's when the batteries had gotten so low the board's override had activated. Normally a dying battery would have caused the hover board to come to a gradual landing, but Rath simply weighed too much and they'd dropped out of the sky like rocks, board and all, with Rath somehow maintaining his balance all the way down. He landed on his feet, standing on the hover board, with a panicking Boy Genius clinging with both hands to the fur on the Appoplexian's arm. There was now a sizable crater in the grass beside the fast food restaurant. The unfortunate patrons and employees of the Mr. Smoothy on Westmorland Avenue had fled in terror at the sight of a towering, tailless, upright tiger heading their way with what looked like a snow board in one hand a small, redheaded boy stuffed under his arm. That Dexter was limp and groaning slightly did not help Rath's case in the least when he tossed Dexter on the counter and asked for an everything smoothy. The screams of the staff fleeing the scene were enough to wake Dexter from his shocked stupor, and due to his mechanical genius, he was appointed master smoothy maker until Rath got the perfect frozen drink or the police arrive, whichever came first. Rath was refusing to leave and Dexter was content to keep him in one spot for a while. Besides, through trial and error he was learning how to make smoothies, and you never knew when such knowledge might be useful.

"Well, what hasn't Rath tried yet, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name?"

Dexter glanced back to see if strychnine was on the list of available flavors. For himself, not Ben. There was no such luck. In his disappointment he began to rattle off the flavors he hadn't cracked into yet.

"Mango . . . red bean paste . . . lychee . . . spinach . . . peanut butter-"

"Sounds good. Rath will have one of those."

"Mr. Israth, I don't think even Ben's stomach could survive that."

"Let's find out!"

"I refuse to put red bean paste and peanut butter in the same beverage. It's criminal and unnatural."

"Okay. Leave one out."

Red bean paste seemed the lesser of the two evils, so he returned to the deserted prep area and readied another round. He ventured cautiously into the refrigerator for ingredients, frowning at some of the unknowns lurking in containers of all shapes and sizes and expiration dates. The fruit he could handle, the red bean paste was pushing it, but there was no way he was abusing spinach or Ben's taste buds by adding it to this next batch. It was taking all of his self-control not to freak out at a place so unsanitary, so far from home (well over a mile away, maybe even two), and so removed from the layers of security he held near and dear. Though he was inside, he was feeling terribly exposed and despite Ben's presence (or because of it) he was rather alarmed. Not having planned on leaving his corporate headquarters, he didn't have his communicator on him. The phone on the wall was so greasy and dirty that he couldn't bring himself to touch it even though he was wearing gloves over his gloves. No, he'd have to rely on the police contacting his father or DexLabs Security. Poor Morton. He must have been on the verge of a meltdown. He knew the feeling well.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

_"So what are we looking at here, Chip?"_ asked Utonium over the comm unit. The man was annoyingly calm and if Chip Morton hadn't known better, he would have thought the president of DexCorp International was amused at the situation.

"He hasn't got his communicator and the homer on the hover board is dead. Technically he's been kidnapped, Professor."

_"By his best friend who's high on catnip?"_

It did sound silly when he put it that way. "Yes, sir."

_"Well, let's not get technical. He's with Ben, so he at least he's got some protection. Let's just find them before something gets destroyed or Dexter runs into a squirrel or dirt or anything else that'll send him into a panic."_

Seeing as how almost everything the great outdoors had to offer did just that, they didn't have much time. "The four offenders are on their way here now, sir. I'm going to chuck them into the cell block and let Mr. Green do what he does best."

_"Make cookies?"_ wondered the Professor, sounding hopeful.

"Not quite what I had in- excuse me a second, sir."

A tugging on his sleeve drew his attention away from the Professor and he looked down into Number Woo's round face. The boy jabbered at him at length, clearly expecting the head of DexLabs security to know what he was going on about, and ended with a wide, self-satisfied smile.

"Uh . . . right," Morton said. "Sir, I think-"

_"Sergeant Morton?"_

It was Blossom Utonium on the comm unit now. He didn't have time for this.

"Yes, miss?"

_"Number Woo just said that he's contacted his superior in Sector C. Number Yee will relay the situation to the KND in Sector V and initiate something like . . . operation trousers ablaze?" _she finished uncertainly.

He had forgotten she spoke Mandarin. Her words shook him to the core as he recognized one of the KND's ridiculous alerts.

"Code Pants on Fire," he translated again. It was their highest level of alert. He knew what the Kids Next Door would do and it wasn't pretty. "No! No, Blossom, tell him-"

"We have a Code Pants on Fire?" exclaimed one of the ever-eavesdropping KND operatives that worked in the security control center. "Sound the alarm! Pants on Fire! Pants on Fire!"

Chip groaned as a frenzy ensued. Behind him, children started rushing about and shouting as if they were under direct attack or as if their rear ends really were consumed in flames. Voices erupted, drowing out all regular security business.

"Scramble all available troops!"

"Pants on Fire! Repeat, we have a Code Pants on Fire!"

"We're getting a priority call in from the Sector C tree house!"

"I've got Number One on the line. He's on his way now. Yes, sir, it was Sgt. Morton that initiated it."

"Confirm that. Code Pants on Fire!"

He was sorely regretting not locking Rath in maximum. Dearborn sent Morton a helpless look before opening a desk drawer and pulling out a small bottle. Chip caught the pain killers tossed his way. He needed aspirin badly right now. The half-door to the command center burst open wide and Sector V's command group strode in with weapons at the ready. Woo chatted happily at Morton.

_"He says you don't have to thank him, Sergeant,"_ translated Blossom.

"Great," he muttered.

_"Call me with an update, Chip,"_ suggested Utonium. _"Sounds as if your hands are full."_

Number One strode up to Morton, all business. "Sergeant, we have a Code Pants on Fire," he said in clipped tones. "What color pants are we talking about?"

A deep, rarely-seen streak of spite surfaced as Morton locked eyes with the teenage commando in front of him and said, "Plaid."

Gasps all around. One of the KND collapsed into his chair, faint. Morton looked heavenwards for strength as the KND gaped in shock, their faces pale. He never should have left the Navy. Putting some pressure on the bridge of his nose, Morton decided that since they had the motivation, he may as well put it to work.

"Dearborn, contact Downtown PD and - _what the?"_

Suddenly fire alarms blared as a pillar of flames and a huge cloud of smoke flashed into being in the center of the atrium. The smoke detectors throughout the entrance activated, causing a downpour. Morton groaned. He had no one but himself to blame for this particular incident as KND poured out of the office and through the doors, their crazy assortment of weapons and firearms all aimed at -

"Hello, children," cooed the ever-chipper Kilroy Green, stepping out of the flames. He smiled at his welcoming committee, ignoring the bristling emotion charging the air. "Nice to see you all on a Saturday. Sorry about this shower you're all getting, but Sgt. Morton's message said it was an emergency and I had to get here quickly. Jerome, both hands on that Null-Void. You know better. Rachel, chew with your moth closed."

As he spoke the frightful-looking fire demon wove his way past the rows of guns and guitars and bladed weapons leveled at him, his serenity unruffled. He walked straight up to Chip, still smiling but sympathetic to whatever plight made the blond look so resigned to his fate. "Problems, Sergeant?"

"Yeah," admitted Morton. "I have a headache. A very, very, very big headache."


	6. Everything Smoothie

**Chapter Six: Everything Smoothie**

"So, children, what have you to say for yourselves?"

Sullen, intimidated silence followed as the four Ben10 fans, seated in a row before Mr. Green, tried to figure out if they were supposed to answer and exactly how much trouble they were about to face if they did (or didn't). They had no idea of what they were up against, and even though there were four of them, they were grossly outnumbered. They had arrived under KND escort and had been ushered straight to the teacher's office for the detention of a lifetime. A DexLabs security guard stood outside the door, ready to introduce anyone that tried to make a break for it to a completely different form of detention from the one they faced right now.

He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and read the brief list of names. "We'll start with taking attendance. Rose?" asked the demon with revolting cheerfulness.

"It's Raven," she corrected, angling for disdain and pulling her usual stunt of reversing names to suit her needs.

"Oh?" smiled Green. None of them knew him well enough to know to be afraid when he used that particularly pleasant tone of voice that preceded the kill. "According to your original transcripts here your real name is Hazel. Hazel Amelia Finnegan, to be exact. It seems you like colorful names, young lady."

Fireant the would-be ninja snickered at Raven's (or Rose's) gobsmacked expression, but shut up quickly when Green's red eye focused on him. He tried desperately hard to be inconspicuous, remembering his impulsive declaration from an hour ago and praying all witnesses would forget it and that Green didn't know about it.

"Now, now, Trevor. Mind your manners. Angelique, is there something wrong?"

The blue-tipped hedgehog vampire half-rose from her seat. "Don't call me that! I hate that name!"

"All right, then, we'll go by your middle name, Alice. Everyone, this is Alice. Margo?"

The silver-topped girl was almost in tears as she piped up, "I don' wanna get in trouble!"

Green smiled but he had no sympathy for her distress. "Perhaps you shouldn't have engaged in a criminal activity, then."

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, waving her hands as if to erase all her wrongdoings, shocked that her fangirlish devotion could be construed unlawful since she loved Ben Tennyson more than anyone and just wanted something of his to treasure and worship.

"Sorry you got caught, you mean. Am I right?"

Her face screwed up as she looked for the words she wanted. "But . . . but Ben's really super kawaii desu, ne?"

The elegant demon stared at her in disbelief long enough to make her squirm. "Ben may be, but your conduct certainly isn't and please stop abusing my native language. Now." He moved before them, setting a stack of lined paper and a pen before each one. The four detainees stared as if they'd never seen either item before in their short lives. "Sgt. Morton has asked me to keep you here while he sorts out other pending issues, and he's going to take my recommendation into consideration when it comes down to punishment for stealing Commander Tennyson's hover board. So to keep you from getting bored while we wait for him, I thought it would be nice if you each wrote me an essay about exactly how you managed to end up in my office on a Saturday."

_"WHAT?" _exploded Alice. "You can't make us-"

She fell back into her chair as floor-to-ceiling flames erupted all around Green. He let out a furious growl, rendering the teenaged ninja, vampire, warrior, and fairy speechless as he went from a sweet and soft-spoken teacher to a full-blown nightmare in the space of a second. His mostly-human appearance was gone in a flash, replaced by a clawed, fanged demon from the deepest pit. His skin darkened and grew scaly and he grew in size and savagery and smoke billowed out and hung low to the ground. Four sets of wide, round eyes stared up at him in terror, but Green didn't care. If these miscreants hadn't stolen Ben's hover board, odds were good none of this would have happened. Now his only student was missing, his boss' best friend looked like Tony the Tiger on steroids, Chip Morton was having kittens, and the snicker doodles he'd been baking when the call came were ruined. Kilroy Van Green was in no way a happy demon, but for once Security was behind him 100% when he let loose with his Irish temper.

"You'll explain exactly what you did," hissed the monster, his voice deep and hollow and his one red eye glowing like an ember. "No talking. Eyes on your own paper. Spelling and punctuation count."

The four seemed incapable of blinking, let alone holding their pens.

He glared and pointed a bony finger. "Write. _Now."_

Scared out of the minds, fearful for their lives, they wrote.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Right. Everyone has your assignments? We're looking for a walking, talking tiger named Rath who has issues controlling his temper and likes to shout. Anything else, Sgt. Morton?"

"You find him, you call me. Do _not_ engage the tiger. No weapons, no confrontations, just _find _him. Understood? Anyone who can't follow orders is getting turned over to Mr. Green for detention." He let the threat sink in, making certain they knew he meant business. "Number One, a word before you leave."

Heads bobbed as the KND troops, still fired up at the notion of a _plaid _Code Pants on Fire, nodded. Number One motioned to Number Two to take over and get things moving, then waited behind, eaten up with curiosity to find out what the security chief (and former KND operative) wanted with him. Number Woo was still present, though he was sticking to Sgt. Dearborn like glue. Nigel let him be since he couldn't speak English and would probably be a lot better off here at DexLabs, at least until the emergency passed.

When the room was empty save for Morton, Dearborn, Woo, and Number One, the blond man indulged in a fit of frustration and clapped a hand to his head with a grumble. Dearborn sighed and held the bridge of his nose to stave off another headache. Woo grinned.

"Sergeant?" asked Nigel Uno, looking between the two harried soldiers. "Sergeants?"

"Alright," Morton said sternly. "This tiger we're after? It's Commander Tennyson. One of his aliens. Whatever. He got a snort of super-strong catnip and turned into the stupidest thing on the planet."

Eyebrows to where his hairline should have been, Nigel gaped. Finally he managed to ask, "Stupider than Billy?"

"Billy's a Rhodes Scholar by comparison," snapped Dearborn.

"Ouch," murmured the KND leader.

"He also made off with our boss," Morton added dryly.

Under his breath Dearborn muttered, "Right before payday."

"Dexter?" breathed Number One, his glasses sliding down his nose.

In his best executive officer voice, Morton said, "Rath wanted a smoothie. He decided that Dexter did, too, and took him for a ride."

"Dexter's not supposed to leave the building!"

"Tell me about it, Uno. So while all your troops are out trying to bell the cat in some hyped-up Code Pants on Fire, _we _are going to . . ." He broke off as his cell phone rang. Yanking it off his belt, Morton stared at the number until the connection broke a moment later. "Mr. Smoothie."

"Riiiiight," Number One agreed. He spoke into his communicator. "Number Two, take command of this mission. I'm going to be assisting DexLabs Security with a special assignment. Find those pants and extinguish them."

Dearborn rolled his eyes at the KND lingo, recognizing the Kid equivalent of _break a leg_. Mentally he let himself grumble and grouse and get the annoyance out of his system in true Marine fashion. Had he spoken aloud he would have turned the air blue. Being around tender ears all the time, he hadn't cursed in so long he forgot what it tasted like.

"What about Number Woo?" asked Nigel, all business.

Morton sighed. Dearborn sighed louder. Both stared at the round-faced Chinese boy.

"Bring 'em," decided Morton. "Just don't let him call anyone."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"How do you do that?"

From the onset of their relationship, Dexter had discovered that Benjamin Kirby Tennyson was a very expensive friend.

"Hey! Rath asked you a question, pal!"

In the past Ben had ruined lab equipment, delayed production in the DexCorp facilities, damaged a gunship, ruined more lab equipment, wrecked large sections of his laboratory, racked up medical bills galore, ate like the teenage boy that he was, needed occasional rescuing, and cost Dexter several valuable prototypes not to mention time spent away from the lab entertaining him (though in that last aspect Dexter was equally responsible since he would happily abandon whatever he was doing when Ben arrived in order to spend time with his best friend). It was fortunate that Dexter was a billionaire. Otherwise he could not have afforded this friendship that came with such a high price tag. 99.99999% of the time having a friend as true and brave as Ben was for the highly introverted scientist a wonderful thing and one of the highlights of his teenage years.

It was that 0.00001% that made Dexter, Boy Genius want to strangle his best friend.

"What, you so dumb you don't even know how you work?"

Sick of smoothies, revolted by this place, he had finally plucked up the courage to try using the phone to call Morton to come save him. Armed with a spray bottle of cleaning fluid and a small stack of paper towels, he doused the greasy, hairy, dirty phone from five feet away before daring to lift the earpiece off the receiver. The ten paper towels between his glove and the phone just didn't seem enough and it took all of Dexter's courage to bring the filthy thing within a foot of his face. He was already resolved to burn every stitch of clothing on his body and double decontaminate himself as soon as he got home. Using a pen he dialed his security chief's cell phone number, throwing it aside the moment he was done rather than return it to his person and standing as far away from the device as the old-fashioned cord would allow and listening from a distance for when the phone picked up.

"Thought so! You look pretty stupid!"

Rath was presently engaged in a one-sided argument with the soda dispenser. For some reason the carbonation and different nozzles and flavor choices fascinated him (though he was at a loss to figure out where the soda actually came from) and he grew annoyed when the machine wouldn't answer his questions. Shouting did not garner any results, either, though he tried a few different volumes ranging from merely loud to ear-splitting. With a roar of fury the Appoplexian challenged the dispenser to a fight. As Dexter prayed for the sergeant to answer, he watched as Rath slipped on some ice that had spilled.

"Hey, you crummy Bonk soda thing!" yelled the tiger, poking the illuminated panel decorating the soda machine. "Who the heck drinks stuff called Bonk? Hey! Rath asked you a question!"

"Mr. Israth!" yelled Dexter, his tolerance for this idiot drawing ever-nearer to the breaking point. When Rath looked up at the unexpected shout, Dexter ordered, "Shut up!"

The long spike on the Appoplexian's hand was poised against the plastic front of the soda dispenser. The razor-sharp blade slipped, and suddenly, without the least intent, the spike sliced through the illuminated display on the front of the machine and Rath punched the soda dispenser. He stared in surprise at the unexpected damage and yanked his hand back, the big front panel impaled on the spike as it cut the unit in half. Soda water sprayed out from ruptured hoses and heavy, flavored syrup spilled all over the floor. Dexter dropped the phone, giving up as he mentally added another $5,000 to the day's tally.

"Um . . . whoops," muttered Rath, knowing he'd gone a bit too far with his friend. Dexter stared at him as the plastic panel advertising Bonk soda slid off his hand and clattered to the floor. He was remembering when Ben had melted the table in his chemistry lab. He had much the same feeling of frustration now as then.

"Won't you please just go to sleep, Ben?" begged Dexter.

"Uh . . . Rath's not tired," said the overgrown tiger.

"Dexter is," hissed the boy, pointing at the alien powerhouse. "I've had enough! You're stoopid and destructive and obnoxious and you don't listen and you've broken my property and I'm going to have to pay for all the damage done here and this is the first day I had off in ages and you came along and . . ."

Rath seemed to shrink with each word, his ears drooping lower and his shoulders slumped as his friend attacked him with words he couldn't always understand even if Dexter's meaning was painfully evident. The Boy Genius' wrath lost steam as Rath deflated more and more until he looked like a dog that got caught doing something he knew he shouldn't.

"And you're drunk," finished Dexter, dropping his hand in defeat. He stared at Rath, at Ben, then looked at the shambles that was Mr. Smoothie. For a long moment he was silent. Rath watched him anxiously. Finally Dexter sighed.

"Another smoothie?"

It was like flipping a switch. Rath brightened instantly. "Yeah! Can you make it with everything, Dexter Boy Genius with the really stupid last name?"

"Why not?" he shrugged, and reached for a cup.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The everything smoothie came out an ugly pinkish-gray in color. Rath stood over Dexter's shoulder and dictated the ingredients, sniffing the frothy mix until the ultimate smoothie was achieved. Unable to take the smell of Bonk syrup or the perfect smoothie any more, Dexter ventured outside as far as the picnic tables set up on the lawn next to the food joint (he could not bring himself to think of such an establishment as a restaurant). Rath followed, smoothie in paw, and Dexter raised no protest as he settled himself right next to him at the end of one of the tables.

"Aren't you going to drink that?" asked Dexter when the Appoplexian just stared at the gigantic cup as if in admiration of its flavor perfection.

"You want to try it?"

"No. Thank you."

Rath took one last look at the horrid color a moment before he slammed back the entire smoothie in a single gulp.

He was leaning back to get every drop of the frozen mess when it happened - the long-promised food coma kicked in. Right before Dexter's eyes, Rath fell asleep as he caught the last few drops of the drink on his tongue. The momentum was already there, and Rath toppled back onto the table like a tree that had just been felled. The picnic table bounced at the impact, almost dislodging Dexter. His friend was already snoring, the plastic cup clutched in his huge paw.

A few minutes later, Dexter was still staring and contemplating a nap of his own when a DexLabs security vehicle pulled up at breakneck speed. Morton and Dearborn piled out, their anxiety and relief at finding their employer evident. The two KND operatives along for the ride looked with great interest at Rath as he snorted and drooled in his sleep.

Wondered Nigel Uno, "That's Ben?"

"On catnip," Dexter sighed.


	7. Hair of the Dog

**Epilogue: Hair of the Dog**

"So where are the boys now, Chip?"

"Dexter's in his third round of decontamination and Tennyson is asleep on your living room couch."

Professor Utonium, tired from a long day of carting around purchases made by his three daughters, tried his best not to sound too eager as he asked, "Is he still a tiger?"

"Last I checked. He's pretty much out cold."

"That's good. I guess." He looked around at the nearly-empty control center. "What happened to the Ben10 fan club?"

"Detention."

"The holding cells?"

"No. Green's office."

"Ah. Ouch. Were the police involved at all?"

"Only to the point where your son reminded them who bought the department ten new vehicles this past year. He's going to pay for all the damage to Mr. Smoothie. There's a crew there now."

"Ah," Utonium said again, wishing he hadn't asked and changing the subject quickly. "Awfully quiet in here."

There was not a trace of shame or regret in Morton's expression. He was too worn out for emotions. "I may have forgotten to tell the Kids Next Door to stand down from the alert. Number One is escorting Number Woo back to the jump platform so he can get back to Sector C."

"Number Woo?" wondered Utonium, thoroughly amused at the name.

"Chinese. About this tall. Kinda round. Smiled a lot. Brought back the hover board and the four kids that stole it. We have him to thank for the Code Pants on Fire."

"Code Pants on Fire?" exclaimed a passing operative, eager and ready to jump the gun and rally the troops in true KND fashion. "We have a Co-"

The former executive officer of the _SSRN Seaview_ turned and unleashed a glare that practically left burn marks on the Kid's armor. Savagely he pointed at the hapless eavesdropper and barked, "Stow that talk, pal, or you'll find yourself in detention with Mr. Green!"

Thoroughly cowed, the Kid backed off with his hands raised in surrender and the color draining from his face. Utonium reached out and gently pushed Morton's hand down as the boy scurried away.

"Time to go home, Chip."

Struggling to turn off his glare, the blond said, "I'm not off duty yet."

"And I'm the President of DexCorp and I'm telling you to go home and relax."

"I-"

"Do you want me to make Roy's dream come true and throw you into detention? You know I will."

The very suggestion was enough to scare Morton straight. He and Green shared a weird sort of rivalry that was harmless to everything but their egos. There was no way Chip would ever put himself at his boss' teacher's mercy. Not and show up for work the next day.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Come have breakfast with us in the morning. I'll make waffles and you can pick on Ben."

"Is that an order, sir?"

"Picking on Ben? I thought that was standard procedure."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

". . . yeoleobun annyeonghaseyo! Dangsin-I nacheoleommeosjin haleleul haejwoss-eumyeon johgessda! Naneun olaen sigan dong-an chum – Margo, what exactly is this supposed to be?"

Moondove squirmed and wrung her hands nervously as she explained in a little girl voice, "It's about what happened when I tried to save Ben-chan's hover board from being stolen. Just like you asked."

Kilroy Green stared at her a long moment before shuffling through her ten-page essay, red pen in hand to unleash with corrections. So far he'd read aloud three fanciful, chatspeak-filled works of fiction in which each author was the innocent victim, forced by his or her companions to act against the one they loved and only going along to protect Ben's property and ensure its eventual, safe return. They had not anticipated Green reading their literary efforts out loud, and there wasn't a one of them that wasn't praying some cataclysmic natural disaster would hit and end their embarrassment and misery as they threw one another under the bus.

"What language is this supposed to be?"

More in-chair gymnastics ensued as the silvery fairy began to realize that just being cute wasn't going to save her. "It's Japanese, ne?"

The green-skinned demon looked down at the essay. "No, it's not. It's . . . I have no idea of what this is."

"No, really! It's Japanese."

"As learned from cartoons."

"Ani-" She shut up quickly when he stood.

"Margo." His horns curled slightly in annoyance and smoke began to seep up from his cape. "For the tenth time:_ I'm _Japanese." He displayed her essay. "_This _is not."

He handed the papers back. Each was covered with red corrections, Margo's to the point of being obscured.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

There were groans all around and everyone slumped further into their hard chairs.

"Mr. Green," begged Ruthinia Bludrayne, "can't you hand us over to DexLabs Security so they can arrest us or something? Pleeeeeease?"

The others looked up in hopeful anticipation. Being locked up in a prison cell would be a vacation by comparison to detention with Mr. Green. The fire demon blinked and smiled benevolently, the perfect picture of passive aggression as he torpedoed their hopes with ruthless accuracy.

"Why would we bother Security when we're all getting along so well? It's not that bad. Besides, I gave up my Saturday to spend with you four as a favor to Sgt. Morton and I told him I'd watch you all until he got back."

"When's he getting back?" asked Fireant in desperation.

"Let's see . . . it's four-twenty now . . ." He did some quick calculations. "Six o'clock tomorrow morning."

They stared in horror. Green smiled back. "Now. Let's get these re-written, children. English this time, everyone, and no chatspeak. I thought afterward you might like to work on some word problems. Doesn't that sound like fun? Dexter loves those."

Groans erupted all around. Their agony – and punishment – was complete.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Dexter, scrubbed within an inch of his life and wearing brand new clothes and boots and a lab coat that had been sterilized twice, still had a lingering odor of antiseptic clinging to him. He was glad for the smell – for him it was reassurance that he'd rid himself of the Mr. Smoothie taint. He was curled up in a chair in the living room with a dozen reference books within easy reach as he read up on biochemistry and waited for the Appoplexian to do more than mumble and snort in his sleep. Einstein, still in his traitorous whore mode, was curled up atop the alien and twitching as he dreamed.

It wasn't until after 9 pm that a flash of green energy consumed Ben for a few seconds as the Omnitrix powered down. Dexter set his book aside and regarded his friend. Ben was a fraction of Rath's size, and right now he looked thoroughly rumpled and pale. The brunet stirred, groaning slightly and dislodging the cat nestled atop him. Slowly Ben Tennyson opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking around in discomfort and confusion as Einstein abandoned ship.

"Welcome back, Mr. Tennyson."

Ben moaned and flopped down into the pillow, wincing. After a few moments of contemplating his splitting head, he squinted at the faint light and stared at Dexter with bleary eyes. "What the heck happened?" he asked hoarsely. "My stomach is - yeesh. I feel dead. My whole brain hurts."

"I believe it's known as a hangover."

"Huh? But I never drank . . ."

"You don't have to drink when there was catnip to be had."

He stared at the scientist, his mouth open and his green eyes wide as he remembered (most) of his day. His expression was so open and astonished that Dexter couldn't help but smile.

"Tell me I imagined what I'm thinking," begged Ben10. He twinged in pain and covered his aching eyes. _"Please!"_

"I could, but I'd be lying."

Ben let out a long sound of embarrassment and pain as he grabbed more throw pillows and hid his face from the world. His voice was muffled as he said, "Sorry. Sorry. Sorrysorrysorry, Dex."

"Hardly your fault, Benjamin."

"Rath is . . ."

"Rath."

"Yeah." He seemed to collapse further into the cushions. "I don't think you have a stupid last name."

Dexter lifted one of the pillows a bit to peer at him. "Well I do."

Ben made another sound and snatched the pillow back to smother his boundless shame. "Kill me now."

"No. I'd get grounded. I'm almost afraid to ask, but are you hungry?"

A moan.

"Thirsty?"

A groan, and then a "Maybe" emerged from the depths of the sofa.

"Something hot or cold?"

"Cold?" asked Ben hopefully.

"Water? Sweet tea? A smoothie?"

He perked up a bit. "Smoothie?"

"Smoothie," promised Dexter with a smile.

Despite his pounding head, Ben returned the smile with a grin of his own. "Hair of the dog that bit me?"

The redhead smirked. "More like what the cat dragged in."

"That would be you, then."

Dexter rose, picking up a pillow to throw at his friend. "You know the old saying, Ben - it's easier to catch a tiger than to let him go."

And he walked into the kitchen to make his friend a smoothie.

_-Fin-_


End file.
